Tassa paced the small hallway nervously. She brushed a stray strand of hair from her face and pulled the wrinkles out of her low cut dress. Seeing that everything was in order, she continued to pace. Many other slaves had reason to be nervous this day. Tonight the master would pick his consort for the evening of the free. On that night, the lord of each house in Third gate would pick his favourite slave, take him or her to the ball held in the largest mansion in third gate, and at the end of the night, give them their freedom to live in neriak foreign quarter or to return to there homelands.

Tassa tried to remember soft Vallenwood trees and the chime of wood elf voices echoing through the branches of the tree city. It had been some fourteen years since she had sold herself to the master. He had been fair to her, though somewhat cruel in his humour. In that time, she had grown to respect the Tier'dal and their somewhat archaic culture. She could even understand some of there fascination with hate. For the past few years, she had helped to raise the master's bastard son, Murcuryak, or Mukyuk, and had become close to the master, learned that he is just a mortal man after all. Under the Dark robes, and stench of the dead, Jaileint was a passionate man with a warm heart, though it was hard to see through his tempers and strange sense of humour.

Tassa was confused... she didn't know what she'd do if the master picked her. Her homesickness was forgotten years ago, her friends all dead in the campaign against the maurading bandits. Her life as a Fier'dal was finished and nothing could give that back to her.
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1. "RE: The sacrifice"

It seemed strange to think of herself as free once more. To walk outside these walls and man-made caves... to see the blessed sun once again, to have the wind in her hair and springy grass beneath her feet was all a strange dream. Maybe she would live in Neriak's famed foreign quarter, where a skilled artisan could become rich. The master and his other slaves had taught her many things, and she was very skilled at preparing magical wares and components. And, suredly she would be accepted, since she was tied to a Master's house and ultimately to the Children. She continued to pace, thinking of leaving her master, who she had grown quite attached to.
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Jaileint paced the small space behind his desk, his hands clasping his dagger hilt and a small worn book tucked into a pocket. His mind raced... tonight was the night of blood, the last day in the last fortnight every 20th year was. On this night, he must choose to give up his favourite slave. He tried to tell himself that he did not have one favourite.

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"One favoured highest must be given away..." The words of the ancient custom rattled through him, and he knew what he must do. Tassa, favoured above all his slaves must be the one. It made him angry... furious. She was the most productive, the highest skilled. Why should he give her up? Because Innoruuk would know, he would know if I gave less than her.
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The night of freedom was here, and Tassa knew that she would always remember this occasion. She dressed in a fine gown, that accentuated her lithe figure and highlighted her golden hair and skyblue eyes. In her hair, she wore a silver and saphire tiara, given to her by Jaileint for just this occasion. As they rode a small carriage to the ball, she boldly took the master's hand and looked him in the eye.

Somber was his mood, and dire his glance. A perpetual scowl hardened his face, and turned down his lips. He must not want to give her the freedom that she had earned. Or, perhaps, he cared for her? wished she was not leaving? Silly thought that... a necromantic lord caring for a wood elf. But still, she had not seen him in this bad a mood since his mistress, Cherish, had left.

"Master, do not worry... I will move to Foreign Quarter, if that is permitted, and continue to serve your house, if you still want me."

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Jaileint was in a foul mood. She did not deserve this. Tassa had sold herself into his servitude for noble reasons, had served him well and shown much loyalty. Still, his god and his people's custom demanded it.

"What's that you say? I wish you'd stop blathering, there are important things I must decide." The wood elf turned at this, a look of hurt in her eyes. She let go of his hand and peered out the carriage, waving to the other house slaves that had gathered on the street to bid farewell to the lucky ones.

The carriage continued it's slow pace to the ball and to the end of Tassa, two hurt elves riding somberly. One in the thrall of decision, the other torn between her feelings and her dreams.

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The carriage arrived to a splendedly decorated mansion in the heart of Neriak. Servants, all dark elves, dressed to perfection and decorated themselves with luminescent paint that only the keen eyes of an elf could see, open the carriage and the door to the enormous waiting hall. Their, more dark elf servants took her's and the master's cloaks and offered them sweet mints and glasses of neriak nectar.
Ushering them quickly to the next room, Tassa caught her breath as she beheld the ballroom. Nothing had prepared her for what was inside. The glory, the beauty, the sheer magnitude of it all brought a tear to her almond shaped eyes and a flutter to her heart. It had been years since last she saw the outdoors, and this was a grand approximation. Magical lights adorned every ballistrade and table, all made to look like trees and vines. The ceiling was painted like the sky at dusk, lighted from behind. On the walls were frescos of woodland scenes with deer and birds and trees everywhere. With all this, there were mingled the social elite of neriak along with slaves, all dressed in their evening's finest.

Tassa turned and got Jaileint's attention, beaming a bright smile at him and squeezing his arm. Her excitement was so great that she didn't see the worry in his eyes or the grim set of his lips. They wandered through the ballroom and were seated at a large table. Tassa was delighted and drank her nectar down quickly. Her master excused himself, mumbling something about protocol. She hardly noticed him leaving towards the kitchen. It was so wonderfull, this was obviously set up to remind the slaves of the freedom they were about to have once more.

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The room shined like a brillian sunset, full of colors and lights. Gems sparkled in the hair of women, both slave and mistress. Everywhere were smiling, laughing faces, whether because of a promised freedom, or for the communing of Tier'dal tradition that would take place later that eve. Scanning the gay faces of his city's elite, Jaileint felt a twinge of terror. Soon, those same faces would bask in an ecstasy of religious fervor and heinous cruelty, all done in the name of the lord-fatherer, Innoruuk. Catching a golden sparkle from the high table, he turned and noticed the regal bearing of Mistress Ezra, her face non-chalant and eyes calculating. She was playing the political game again, mustering support for her rize in power. To her right, sat the "Queen" and her "King", looking rather nervous and sipping white wine.

Jaileint quickly faced away to avoid Ezra's glance. She suredly would see his conflict and come to ask about him. Making his way towards the back exit of the ballroom, the Necromancer thought of his plight. In but a few hours, he would be called to sacrifice her.... A picture of Tassa enters his mind, a startled wood elf woman/child standing in the gutters of high keep, begging him to protect her and her small brother, both drenched and filthy. Her eyes were very large and afraid, and her hands were bloody from who knew what. He had offered to take her as his servant in return for setting her brother up in high keep with a purse of gold and a writ of acceptance to their scholar's guild. She had been ecstatic and cried for hours untill he had taken them both to his small rooms in the inn and fed them properly. From then on, she had been the most dutifull of his slaves, always ready to please and never complaining, even when he asked for her help in magical research that would make most steadfast elves faint from fright. The picture faded, and in it's place was the gruesome tale his aunt had told of the last Night Of Blood.

The dark elf pressed his eyes shut, willing the picture of his aunt's bloody hands out of his mind. Blood and sacrifice he did not object to, but the betrayal of Tassa wrenched his soul. He steeled his nerves in decision and quickened his step towards the mansions gardens.

"Maaaasssteerr..." the animated corpse spoke. Jonarer was a good creation, his link with him was astounding, even to the necromancer. "I have a task for you, my friend, and it is a complicated one." "Maaassstteeeerrr..." Not the most verbose of pets, but cunning he knew from the past week's training with it.

Tassa is sitting at their table, still gawking at all the finery of the ballroom, just as I left her. Good, she hasn't talked to any of the nobles or slaves, and perhaps has not been noticed. This will have to be quick, and she must not suspect me. Their are guards posted on the balcony looking for any sign of distress or panic. They will slay all of the slaves at the first sign that the cat is out of the bag.
Jaileint walks to the table and gets her attention with a touch on the arm. Beaming what he hopes is a happy smile, "Tassa, would you like to see the gardens before dinner is served? They are quite splendid."

Smiling coyly, "Yes master, I'm dying to see them." the
Necromancer turns to hide his ironic smile and offers his arm. The beautifull wood elf takes it, and they casually walk towards the back entrance.

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The gardens of neriak's finer estates were very strange to the outsider. There were no bushy plants or flowers, no hanging vines or regal trees. In their place, were a plethora of statues, carved from stone, wood, bone, and materials unknown. Great and small, beautifull and hideous, the hard depictions were aranged in some semblence of order. This garden, was unlike most, it's depictions were arranged into scenes. Here was a depiction of the battle of Tar'lvith, complete with hacked corpses, fire-breathing dragon, and frantic groups of armoured Humans.

Walking through the garden was like walking through someones
memory. It all made Tassa feel very strange, like she was someone else. Here was a white marble dragon, striking the life from a valiant human warrior. Beside him, his comrade raises his spear with pain and guilt written plainly on his features.

Footsteps startle the wood elf, bringing her back to herself. Jaileint is nowhere to be seen, where did he go? The footsteps are getting very close. Is that a skeleton there? It must be just a statue, but it looks just like the pet that the master has been working on.

With lightning speed, the undead creature pounces on the wood elf, covering her mouth with a sticky cloth, and holding her arms to her side. Another figure appears out of the shadow and binds her feet and arms. He is a stranger, and very tall and broad. Tassa's mind reels in pain and hurt. The master has betrayed me, his promise of freedom was just a ruse, another of his cruel jokes.

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Stumbling into the back entrance, holding his bloody forehead, Jaileint shouts for the guards. "They have taken my offering, two men, dressed as servants, one must've been a human. They ran towards the back wall of the garden. Catch them and bring back my Tassa." Growling about filthy humans, the guards bound out into the garden,
brandishing their swords.

Jaileint excuses himself from the gathering mob of on-lookers and leaves out the front entrance towards his awaiting carriage. "To the guild house, G'lain. And make some speed." The driver cracks his whip, and the carriage lurches down the street. "Well done, my pets. I will pack the few things you will need and send you out of the city via the docks. You can handle a long swim, cant you?"

"Maa maa maaasssstteeerrrrr" is all the armoured half-elf can
respond with. Affirmative.

"You will take her to High Keep, there seek out Tobias Greenhand, the master of the Scholars Guild. He will take her from you, and your service to me will be fullfilled."

"Maaster." Better, maybe he is gaining some control over his fear. Perhaps, too much control.

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Chernavog ran, he ran faster than humanly possible. Trees, stones, and sky blurred by with the speed of the wind. His magically enhanced strength did not fail, even though he carried 90 lbs of unconscious elf on his shoulder. The elf stirred, but nothing distracted the bard, his mind was locked on the command, "Take her to High Keep..." This was the only thought in his mind.
Thunder boomed through the overcast sky, lightning striking the mountains in the distance, a shadow crept over the land. A shining blue figure streaks through the gloom, cutting through the downpour of rain. Unnoticed to him, his burden was struggling wildly to get free. A red stain ran down his shoulder and back. Muffled screams uttered from her mouth, but were drowned thru the rain and a broken mouth. Still, the mindless bard ran on..

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Tassa awoke with the howl of wind in her ear, and pain streaking through her stomach. She bounced on something very hard, and there was some sort of metallic jaw eatting it's way into her abdomen. It takes a few seconds for the slave to realize, she being carried, carried by a man running at incredible speed. That same speed was in his arms, and his steel pauldrons were scissoring back and forth with lightning speed against his breastplate. This must be what was hurting her stomach. Yelling as loud as she can, another incredible pain arcs through her jaw. All the bouncing must have broken it while she slept. She struggles, but is very weak with bloodloss.